


not a lot of money in revenge

by orphan_account



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: M/M, also finally!! a semi slow burn, also vizzini doesnt exist, and....pirates, this will be multi chapter so we'll see how well i do with updates, we dont talk about him. ever, yes this is a princess bride au. deal with it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-16 08:25:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17546114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: John Deacon is just a lowly farm-boy who feels the world has something more to offer him - but will he find it?





	1. Farmboy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This could be the beginning. Or the end. John had no way of telling.

To begin with, this is not a fairytale. 

John Deacon didn't believe in fairytales. Not since he was a child, and the magic seemed to drip slowly out of his life as water would in a depleted desert. John didn't believe in true love, or marriage, or once upon a time, or really anything of that sort. It didn't really impact his life at all, really.

He lived on a farm in the middle of nowhere, where the sun rose to greet him and only him in the morning. When the sun would filter through the single hung windows, and the dust floating in the air was visible, all John could think about was how blissful life was. As he walked down the cobblestone path to the pastures, John could hear every single songbird chirping away in the great oak trees. When he took the horses out riding, John could hear the wind brushing by his ears, whispering to go faster if he dared - he did, every time. And when the long day was finally disappearing behind the apple orchards and strawberry fields, John would say goodnight to the sun and hello again to the moon, welcoming slumber in his weary arms.

But there was a business in taking care of all the beauty. He was responsible for milking the cows, tending to horses, counting chickens, shearing sheep, all those farm tasks that one would usually make fun of. It was not a funny business.

It was around his 10th anniversary of tending this farm by himself (he had started when he was 9 when his father and mother left on mysterious business and hadn't come back since) when he realized that he could not simply keep up with all these tasks by himself. So, naturally, he hired a farmhand. 

Little did he know exactly how much trouble this would cause him.

The man's name was Roger Taylor, and he found him through a bulletin board in a market square over 15 miles away. He had asked around town for Mr. Taylor, and had had some mixed results when mentioning his name:

"Oh,  _him?_ "

"Try the pub. I think he lives there."

"I don't think that's exactly the man you're looking for."

But John was determined not to follow his passion alone. He didn't want to admit it, but he needed a friend. Desperately. 

The town that this devious man lived in was a quaint one. People bustled the street sidewalks, gossiping about a recent marriage or a runaway fiancée. Tiny shops littered the outskirts of the towns - bakeries, butcher shops, bookstores - but John rarely stopped at those. His favorite place to visit was the town library.

Admittedly, it did not have many books. If you wanted a book on the science of amphibians, you'd be better off studying a toad up close. But the  _real_ thing that attracted John the most was the whole aura of the library. Books were stacked up haphazardly on chairs that didn't seem stable enough to hold a person; shelves stories high with ladders attached to reach that one book on the top you just  _had_ to read; the flowerpots resting against windowsills; this was why John visited this library. It had a quiet bubble surrounding its' walls.

However, John was on an official business trip. After a couple hours of scouring under pub tables and in gloomy alleyways, John finally found Roger Taylor chatting up a woman in a clothing store. He had to confess that his first impression of this man was not a kind one.

He walked up to the slightly shorter man and took in his overall appearance. He was rather skinny and didn't appear to be able to lift even half of his own weight. His hair was brushed into gentle blond waves, and he was wearing a coat that made him look bigger than he actually was. The woman he was talking to was obviously interested, twirling her hair around her fingers as she giggled even when Roger wasn't saying anything.

John decided to break this up relatively quickly. He cleared his throat. 

"Are you Roger Taylor?"

The blond turned around with a scowl on his face. 

"Yeah?" His voice was high.

John held up the 'work needed' sign with Roger's face on it. "I would like to employ you," he shot a glance at the woman, "if you would like to talk about it, we can discuss wages and whatnot."

Roger's eyes blinked once, twice. John noted that he had large eyelids that seemed to droop over his eyes. He turned back to the woman and huffed when he saw she had walked away. He turned back to John with a slightly irritated smile and ushered him outside into the bustling streets.

"What a good chap you are, eh? Want to employ someone like me, the mischievous rat of this town?" He smirked as he saw people's faces turn sour when he passed. 

John was beginning to think this may not be such a good idea, but there was nobody else for hire. He really needed the help. So he said that.

Roger nodded his head in understanding. "Yeah. Jobs around here have been scarce. Up in those big towns by the castle do you usually get work, but not here in the middle of nowhere." He looked at John up and down. "Say, you don't look much like a farmer. How much are you willing to pay me?"

John scratched his head. "That's...the issue, to be frank. I don't have much, but I can give you a bed and at least 3 meals a day. I believe that's better than some of the rumors I've been hearing from some of your neighbors." 

Roger chuckled. "Ah, yeah. Screw 'em. Well, I'll take it. You seem rather nice, and I trust you."

 _This is the start,_ a thought flashing through John's head at the speed of light, too fast for him to process it correctly. Whatever this was, he knew it would be something different.

He was ready for different.

 

* * *

 

It had already been a full month of Roger's employment when John realized exactly what a big mistake he had made.

If you wanted the chickens to be rounded up in the coops, expect Roger to be back in approximately 6 hours with feathers in his hair and to tell you that he was only able to get one inside.

If you wanted the cows milked, expect a chorus of cackles coming from the stables and Roger with barely enough milk for a cup to come back.

If you wanted the horses to be ridden, don't even bother asking Roger because he would only end up getting himself trampled on.

John was really beginning to regret socializing.

One day, John went out there as Roger was murmuring to one of his horses, Chandler, trying to coax him over so he could feed him an apple. His words were mixed with undertones of aggressiveness, most likely because the horse would not willingly come over. 

John took the apple from Roger's hand, which elicited a small "hey!" from the man, and said, "If you want a horse to like you, be gentle and patient with it. Observe closely."

John lightly stepped toward the horse, making small clicking sounds with his tongue. "It's okay, boy. I won't hurt you."

After a few seconds of gently staring back at John, Chandler stepped forward and nibbled the apple slightly before taking the whole thing. 

John turned, proud of his slight showoff in front of the stableboy. However, he found Roger staring back with mouth slightly agape, impressed at his show of bravado. 

"That was incredible. I've never seen anything like that!" Roger's eyes bored into John's as he went back to stand next to Roger. 

"Yes, well. I've been doing it for quite a while." John's cheeks flushed with the sudden exposure of kindness.

Roger scoffed. "Oh please. That was amazing!" Roger jolted. "Wait, why do you have a bucket in your hands? Don't tell me you're going to make me do more work."

John stared as Roger's motivation drained from his eyes. "Isn't that what I hired you to do?" He shoved the bucket into Roger's limp arms. "Go clean the pigs, farmboy."

Roger rolled his eyes and groaned. "As you wish," he replied, mockingly, and stalked off.

John rubbed his temples. Was there any way you could return a farmhand?

 

* * *

 

Another month passed when John finally learned to tolerate Roger. After a few awkward morning minutes of silence between bites of toast and polite smiles, John became frustrated and initiated a more personal conversation with Roger.

"So, where are your parents?"

Roger looked up over his toast with strawberry preserves, and placed it down gently, wiping his mouth clean. After a few chews, he replied.

"I'm not sure. I've assumed they're dead."

"Why is that?"

Roger looked wistfully out the window. It was the first time John had seen Roger look anything besides malcontent.

"They, er...they left me a while back. I was pretty young. I learned to get on by myself all right, but..."

John stared. "But...?"

Roger turned to face him and smiled cheekily. "Not a lot of people to complain to." 

John scoffed and punched him lightly on the shoulder. "You bastard," he responded. "I lost my parents as well." He added when the conversation lulled. 

Roger chuckled. "Parents suck, huh? Yeah, but it's all good now. We've got each other, haven't we?"

John thought for a moment. It was true; Roger was one of his first real friends in a while. He nodded. 

"Yes."

Roger jumped up and clapped John on the back. "Well! I'm off to town. I wanted to make something, and I need a few supplies. I have some money of my own," Roger threw in as he saw John rummaging through his pockets.

John sighed. He didn't want to be alone much longer than he had to, but Roger had personal needs to take care of, needs that John couldn't inhibit. So he allowed it. 

As Roger departed, he looked over his shoulder to see John watching him go. He grinned, a smile that went ear to ear, and threw up his hands in a grand waving gesture.

"Until we meet again!" He shouted, a warm embracing call that echoed in John's head.

John waved back, smiling to himself. 

He could see himself getting along quite well with this fellow.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this is the first chapter! i will try to update regularly, if that's something people want. so if you'd like to see more please comment!! and if you have any suggestions please comment or dm me on my instagram @johndeacn :)


	2. Morosity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John is faced with a dilemma or two.

Questions plagued John's mind at this very moment. 

Like, where could Roger be? Could he have gotten lost along the way? Did he have enough money? Has he been imprisoned? 

John felt foolish for feeling so worried, but as he sat at the small wooden round table by himself drinking his afternoon tea, he couldn't help but let Roger rise through his thoughts. 

The two men had become decidedly closer as time had passed, and John had gotten used to waking up and hearing Roger's scuffles from the next room as he opened the door, letting the light from the window behind him create a lovely halo effect among his blonde curls (which were enhanced by the fact that he had just woken up). Once, he had stumbled sleepily into the hazy kitchen, grabbing a plate hastily and saying something unintelligible to John, who had also just woken up. John let an oblivious giggle slip from his mouth, something that hadn't happened in, it seemed, a century. He remembered seeing Roger's face of surprise as he heard his laugh, and him pointing out that it was the first time he heard John  _really_ laugh.

John remembered thinking, for the first time, that Roger perhaps  _wasn't_ as bad as he made him out to be.

But now, as John sat alone quietly with just the stereo sound of silence, he missed that rambunctious man. He had gotten so accustomed to his mornings being fast-paced and conversation-filled instead of a calm and relaxed one, that he felt like something important was missing. 

 _I'm probably overreacting_ , he thought and tried to push away his paranoia...

To no avail. He became frustrated at how much he was thinking about Roger and decided to get started on his chores. He placed his teacup in the sink, grabbed his pail for milking the cows, grabbed the doorknob, and was suddenly greeted by an unfamiliar face.

"Oh-!" John exclaimed as the woman's hand was inches away from his face, in a knocking motion.

"Ah! Pardon me, sir!" The woman took her hand quickly down by her sides and bowed in an apologetic gesture. "I just wanted to give you some news."

John was not in the mood for this, so he shook his head in an aggravated manner. "I don't have time, you'll have to come back later-"

"It's about Roger Taylor, sir." 

 

* * *

 

_Dear John,_

_I know this is most likely the last thing you are expecting from me. Or perhaps the most likely thing to ever happen to me. Either way, I'm sorry you had to find out this way. I do believe that we could have been wonderful friends if my time had been extended with you._

_I do not want to make any excuses for my behavior, as it is only fitting that this should happen to me. I will give you a quick summary of what has passed since we have seen each other last._

_I had made my way safely to the town square and was introducing myself to a few locals when I was robbed quickly of my allowance. Being the reckless man that you have seen before, I made my way after this scoundrel to teach him not to mess with me...when I found myself unconscious tied up in an attic of some sort. I soon realized I was on a pirate ship, and that my captor (the robber) was a pirate. He came down, untied me, and told me I could write one letter to one person to let them know I will be killed within the next day._

_So, John, I wrote to you. I hope this letter finds you well. I cannot reveal my location, for even if I did, you would find me dead and I'm sure that would not do wonders for your mental stability. I would like to conclude my letter with a note of apology, for I feel I have done you an injustice. I did not do my share of the work around that lovely farm of yours. It was only because I enjoyed it when you told me how to do it properly, with the amount of care and patience as one would with a child (which, I'm sure, is what I resemble). You have a way with teaching. Share it with everybody._

_I must finish writing to you now. Say hello to Chandler for me, will you?_

_Yours, Roger_

 

* * *

 

John didn't remember what the woman was saying to him after he had read the letter. For some reason, she had apparently felt welcome enough to stay. Continually, he had recognized the pity in her voice and had immediately tuned out of the conversation. He knew the pity all too well with people - when he would be having a friendly conversation and somehow the topic of his parents would spring up, like a plant that had suddenly just been watered. Although, the results were not pleasing compared to the plant.

The slight "o" shape of the mouth with the eyebrows turned up from the woman meant that John was due for a migraine in the following seconds. He hated people feeling sorry for him. It always reminded him that there was absolutely  _nothing_ he could do about it.

It was the same for Roger.

For the next few weeks, John did not take as much care after his farm. How could he? He felt utterly alone, and as if the colors in his life were suddenly desaturated. The birds did not sing, or if they did, it was a mourning call. The animals hung their heads as John passed, and the trees swayed in mocking misery. John felt jealous of the earth, for it was able to hold Roger's body one last time.

John thought that there is nothing more sorrowful than the death of something that could have been. Imagining what could have been made matters only worse. When he saw the empty chair next to him, or the untrod path leading to the stables, he was reminded constantly that he was alone. He could barely eat or sleep. He found very little comfort in the things he found enjoyable once. But at the same time, he was  _tired_ of feeling this way. He was tired of often seeing Roger in his dreams, seeing him so close but then waking up in terror when he finds that Roger's face is mutated in a way John can't recognize. 

Other dreams, however, were more pleasant. They were bright and colorful and John  _saw_ Roger. They felt  _real_. In one, John and Roger were sitting on his porch, just sitting and rocking back and forth. Time seemed to stay still, or perhaps go by quickly. And sometimes they would make John wake up in excitement, looking around the room or listening to hear the joyful cacophony that Roger usually woke him up with. His mood would deplete at the speed of light as he would remember that Roger wasn't there anymore.

But why? He barely knew Roger! Why was he so grieved at this news? They had known each other for maybe 3 months, if that. But at the same time, he knew that this was something important to him.  _Roger_ was important to him. And he couldn't place exactly why. Which only frustrated him more.

The only way to heal is to ignore it, right? So John would do just that. 

 

* * *

 

It had been 2 years since the death of Roger. 

John had marked the day on his calendar when he had heard the news and always kept it in the back of his mind. Everything, though, was different. John was different.

To begin with, John met Prince Jim Hutton. 

When John met the Prince, John's mental and physical health was steadily deteriorating after hearing about Roger. After holding back his every wheeze and shudder, eventually, John gave up and went into town to seek help from an apothecary. There, he met an old man who claimed to have healing powers, and gave him a bag full of herbs and told him to mix it with his tea. John thanked the man and headed out, where he bumped into Jim.

John recognized him immediately, and bowed, apologizing, but Jim said he had been looking for him. As it turned out, the Prince needed to marry in order to secure the throne. However, Jim had recently come to the realization that he was homosexual, but hadn't come out to the country yet. He wished to do so by finding a husband and coming out at the same time. Jim had apparently heard from a few local girls that John was one of the most isolated men in town (this earned a slight grimace from John), and Jim had come to inquire about the mysterious fellow.

As nobody knew that Jim was gay, and John didn't seem to have any living relations or close friends (another stunning blow to John's ego), Jim proposed that they were to get married, at least for the time being. It would provide Jim to come out properly, and John with some company. He also offered to hire someone to take care of his farm while he was away, living at his castle. 

Because of course, he was going to live there with him.

John accepted his offer. Not because he was in love - the same went for Jim - but because he needed a change in scenery. To be frank, he was sick of seeing things that reminded him of Roger all day. He was starting to think that his sickness was attributed to this very fact.

So, John moved in with the Prince.

The castle, admittedly, was quite lovely. John noted all of the different colored tapestries hanging on the walls that told stories within the fabric, the multitude of butlers and maids that seemed to await them at every corner, and the mazes of rooms that led to botanical gardens, movie theatres, and even an indoor aviary. This caught John's eye the most, as the chirping of birds from all kinds of species filled his ears, he was reminded of his simplistic life on the farm. If he closed his eyes, perhaps he could even see the farm against the dying of the sunlight.

Jim led him on until they reached John's chambers, which were elegantly made up in a theme of lustrous golds and amethysts. It was a little too extravagant for John's tastes, but nice nonetheless. John turned to Jim to thank him. 

Jim smiled kindly and placed his hand gently on John's shoulder. "No need to thank me. Just make yourself comfortable, dinner will be served shortly." And with that, Jim left the room, leaving John alone with his thoughts.

John sat down on the edge of the bed and took in the whole situation for the first time since he had met Jim. He was going to be _married,_ and to a man he barely even knew. He wasn't even sure if this man was to be trusted. And to top it all off, he missed Roger with his entire being.

Clutching the end of the silk sheets, John flung himself face down on the bed and began to sob shamelessly. There was something rather relieving about crying melodramatically when one hasn't in such a long time. John had buried his feelings so far deep inside, he wasn't even sure if he was capable of feeling such unrelenting sadness ever again.  

He wasn't sure if he was capable of love ever again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i started this the night i posted the first chapter so hello future me. are you having fun still? i sure hope so. this would be a waste if you weren't.  
> edit: having a fantastic time! thanks for being concerned past me :)  
> ps edit: i know someone is going to comment on this but jim is going to play a bigger role later on!! this isnt in any way shipping jim and john?? i literally just had to put someone in humperdincks role so it could fit the plot. so dont come at me please. thanks!


	3. Encounter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John meets a vengeful conquistador and a friendly, though freakishly tall, scientist.

Although the castle was beautiful and spacious, John still felt the nagging desire to go out and listen to the sounds of nature. After a few restless days, John asked permission to go out for a horseback ride one morning and to perhaps pick some wild strawberries while he was out. The Prince gave him leave, and John felt like he couldn't get out of that castle any faster.

John knew this horse was no Chandler, but she was sweet beyond measure, and John knew that if Chandler had met her he would instantly fall in love. Her name was Pip, and she had a lovely auburn coat and a rich black mane. John combed her out before he mounted, whispering reassuring words to calm her down. Doing this made him feel already like he was at home, back at his cozy and inviting farm.

As John rode out of the palace grounds, his thoughts once again drifted to Roger. It had been so long since the painful memory had popped up for John (as he had it buried deep within his subconscious) that he was shocked, nearly running into a tree. John yelped as Pip whinnied and bucked John into the air. There were an excruciating 3 seconds before John hit the ground hard, earning a pained grunt. 

Looking up at the mare, John scowled. "Hey! You didn't have to do that, you know!" A whinny was the only apologetic action Pip could muster.

John, while brushing off his pant legs, looked around. He appeared to be in the middle of the forest. The sun was just rising over the tree branches, creating a surreal effect for John. The wind picked up, blowing leaves in John's face. He coughed and pushed them away, getting up as quickly as he could. Sighing, he grabbed the rein attached to Pip and his strawberry basket, wandering over to a rushing creek nearby. While Pip took a sip from the clear water, John looked around for strawberries.

Seeing a splotch of red in the distance, he assured Pip he'd be back and jogged over to the patch. The strawberries were perfectly ripe, and John couldn't help but to stop and appreciate all of the small berries growing closely together. He envied them: they had family and lovers and a beautiful home all to themselves. John sighed and started to pick the strawberries. Leave it up to John to start getting sentimental over fruit.

Suddenly, John heard a crunch of leaves coming from behind him. He assumed it was Pip, and so he said, "Finished drinking, huh? Give me a second, and we'll get going."

"Oh yes, we'll get going, darling. However, most likely not to the place you're thinking of."

John quickly stood up and whipped around, facing two impressionable men standing before him. With the few seconds that John had before he was either mugged or killed, John noticed the first man, standing to the left.

He had his arms crossed against his chest, and looking rather impatient. He had shoulder-length black hair with bangs that cast a shadow over his deep brown eyes. His clothes were somewhat revealing, with a patch of chest hair poking through the opening in the fabric. John also couldn't help but notice a particularly shiny sword sticking out from his side. As if noticing this observation, the man rested a hand on the hilt, not saying a word. John then shifted his attention to the man next to him.

If there were giants, this man would be a descendant of them. His height was nearly twice John's own, it felt, although he was closer in height to him than the man standing next to him. His head of hair made up a good 6 inches of his height, as it was incredibly curly and blown upwards. He had a long, slim figure, and was standing as if he was just about ready to run away. John didn't feel as big as a threatening vibe coming from him as compared to the swordsman, but he nonetheless was frightened.

"Er, I'm sorry, but who are you?" John asked, trying to control the shaking in his voice.

"Unfortunately, you won't need to know that for where you're going." The swordsman tilted his head, and with one swift motion, the tall man took his fist and gently knocked John upside the head, knocking him unconscious.

 

* * *

 

John woke up sitting down against a wall, smelling something that vaguely resembled moldy cheese. He sputtered, struggling to regain consciousness. He looked around to find himself on a boat, with the tall man sitting in front of him, holding a plate of moldy cheese.

The man looked relieved. "Ah, good thing I did not kill you. That would be most unsatisfactory." He patted John on the head and stood up, trailing his long limbs slowly to the upper deck, where the other man was standing. John heard him tell him that he was awake.

The swordsman's eyes glittered, and John watched him vault over the deck to reach him. He squatted down and looked John in the eye.

"I am Freddie Mercury. That man," he pointed to the tall one, "is Brian May. You are John Deacon, are you not?" 

John wasn't entirely sure how, or if, he should respond. He furrowed his eyebrows. 

"I thought you said I didn't need to know your names where I was going."

"Well, we thought it hard for you to refer to us if you did not know our names. So now you have them. Use them wisely!"

John scoffed and glared at Freddie. "Why did you kidnap me?"

Freddie waved his arm in a dismissive motion. "No matter. I will take that as a yes that your name is John, then, since you did not attempt to answer me. Please hold still while we sail on our course. You will make it mightily easier to detain you that way." Freddie slapped John on the shoulder and stood up, facing the sun. He took a deep breath in and then exhaled.

"Beautiful day for a crime, eh?" He called to Brian, who was resting his legs on the deck. He looked up and nodded slowly. 

"Although, I wish it  _had_ been a bit less windy. That way nobody can track us." 

Brian nodded once more. "I agree, boss. However, if, hypothetically, somebody  _were_ following us, what would we do?"

Freddie roared with laughter. "Why, my giant friend, we would go faster of course!"

Brian again nodded. "Ok. Shall we do that then?"

Freddie's eyes widened, and running to the stern to look behind them, cried out.

"How can this be possible? We are untrackable!"

Brian shrugged. "Actually, we are going against the wind, meaning somebody could  _technically_ track our scent if they were so trained to do so."

"Aw, shut your mouth. We must accelerate!"

And so they did, leaving John to wonder who could possibly be after them. He was not in the least concerned if it was somebody else that wanted to kidnap him, as he felt already in an uncomfortable situation and that it could not get much worse. But his main guess was that it was Prince Jim sending out a fleet to rescue him, although he  _had_ told him he'd be out for a while picking strawberries, so he shouldn't be worried. John turned his head up towards the sky, watching a seagull. It was peaceful here, despite all the shouting coming from the flamboyant warrior and gentle giant he currently shared the boat with.

"Reduce sail area! Adjust the riggings! Oh, come on, pick up those long legs of yours and get moving!" Freddie barked at Brian. However bossy Freddie sounded, he still maintained a kingly aura about him that John couldn't help but admire, even though he was his kidnapper. 

John's curiosity ended up overriding his practicality, and eventually, he hoisted himself up to see who it could possibly be that was following them. A black mast and sail with a large skull imprinted on it stood out against the clear blue sky, and John's heart leaped into his throat. 

It was the Dread Pirate Roberts.

Rage filled John's veins and bafflement clouded his vision. All he could think about was Roger's last letter, his last words mentioning how he had been imprisoned on a pirate ship. As far as John knew, this was the only well-known pirate ship around. It  _had_ to be the one that killed Roger. 

Without knowing it, John felt himself pushing himself up on the railings, lifting himself up and over, and was about ready to jump in before Brian ran over and picked him up easily. 

"Woah there! Do you want to go into the hands of the enemy, eh? Well, I can tell you one thing. That man does not keep prisoners alive for very long." Brian carried John carefully despite his attempts at kicking his legs, which seemed to deal no damage.

"Bloody imbecile, I  _know_ that firsthand! Now would you please let me down!" John grunted, trying hard to wriggle out of Brian's surprisingly tough grasp.

He sighed. "Everyone has a tragic backstory nowadays. If you promise not to jump overboard while we're escaping, I can put you down."

"Promise."

"Alright," he mumbled, placing John down where he was sitting before. "We're picking up speed, and we should reach the Cliffs of Insanity soon, so just sit tight."

John sat indeed, clenching his fist in frustration and fury. A tear rolled down his cheek, which he quickly wiped away. He would not let his emotions get the best of him again.

He would just have to show this pirate who was really in charge.

 

* * *

 

As they approached the Cliffs, John felt an enormous wave of terror wash over him. Not only did he have to scale these cliffs in the first place, but with people that he assumed wanted him dead. Standing on the edge of the beach and staring at the steadily approaching pirate ship, John felt that same wave of anger wash over him as the first time he saw the ship. All he knew, that if  _that_ pirate even stepped a mile within John's radius, he would be getting what he deserved.

John turned around in response to a gentle tap on his shoulder and was greeted with a smile from Brian.

"I need to tie you onto my back now if you please. Unless you would like to be killed by our pursuer instead."

John let Freddie tie him onto Brian's back, huffing, "I would prefer not to be killed by anyone, thank you kindly. But I realize that is too much to ask around here."

John watched as Freddie tied himself onto Brian's side and wondered if Brian was even strong enough to lift both of them  _and_ himself. 

"I may look rather skinny, but I was top in my class in weightlifting," Brian reassured John as if reading his mind. John found this fact hard to believe, but soon did when he saw the speed at which Brian was scaling these cliffs.

Halfway up, John decided to take a big risk and look down to see where the pirate was located. He gasped audibly as he saw the pirate nearing them, almost leaping from rock to rock. John wanted to take on this pirate, but certainly not while on the edge of a precipice. He urged Brian to go faster.

"I, er...would you like to try it?" Brian responded, somewhat sarcastically but not unkindly.

John decided to keep his mouth and eyes shut for the remainder of the climb.

Eventually, John heard Freddie untying his rope from around Brian's waist, and guided John to a built-in place to sit for a little on the side. John found themselves to be in a clearing of some sort on the top of the cliffs, with sand and patches of grass scattering the area. John looked over to see Brian and Freddie desperately trying to drop some rocks on the pirate's head to slow him down. Eventually, Freddie stood up straight and matter-of-factly said:

"Go with the farmer.  _I_ will take care of our dreaded pursuant by myself."

Brian stood for a bit and stared. John looked at Brian, then at Freddie.

The stance that Freddie currently held reminded John of a king. With his perfectly styled hair and elegant figure, John couldn't help but notice the similarities. And he was sure that Freddie knew it too: everything about him just commanded power. It made John nervous.

"Well? Are you going or not? Trust me, Brian, I've handled worse than a rugged pirate before."

Brian paused another moment or so before replying with a nod, "Ok, Fred. Don't die on us, if you can manage that."

"Dear, I would actually die and manage to make it back to you. Don't you dare underestimate my abilities." Fred winked and pulled out his sword with a flourish, taking two steps forward in a sparring motion, and did not take another look back.

Brian took John away, remaining silent. John looked back at Freddie, seeing the tip of the pirate's head appear over the rocks.

If he were Freddie, there was no way that he'd let that man get out of that fight unscathed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes i did skip a couple parts from the movie! i wanted this to go relatively fast because obviously i cannot write 2 hours worth of a movie word for word. and i am tweaking some facts as well, just to make it more realistic. thanks! stay tuned for the next exciting chapter :)


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